A sob escaped me, as I freed my feet, pulling them from the stone and hoisting myself up over the ledge. My back hit the stone hard, but I didn’t care, not when I’d been seconds away from being impaled on a bed of golden stakes. The dark roof of the cave was illuminated by the flickering lantern at my side and I blinked up at it, clearing the tears from my eyes.
After a moment’s respite, I rolled over, took my climbing gear off, and forced myself to stand. My muscles burned, my shoulders felt like they were going to fall off, and I didn’t know how much longer my legs could support me. But the second I stood and saw what was waiting for me, all my physical ailments seemed to dull, like I’d taken a potion brewed by a churail that had softened everything to a glimmering, golden mist.
Gold pillars held up an enormous entranceway, carved with creatures I’d only ever seen in the few fae texts we had in the archives—giant wolves, horses with metallic legs, nihang water dragons with intricate scales and large illuminated manes. The floor was gold tiles etched with geometric floral motifs, each one depicting the different stage of the growth of a jasmine flower.
I had found it.
The Golden Vault.
The Citadel had been searching for this place for years, with only small mentions of it in various texts and the songs collected by my mother.
If she could see me here now, I could only imagine the grin spreading across her face.
The arched ceilings of gold had been melded to the cavern overhead, and it even looked as though there were diamonds and pearls and emeralds embedded into walls.
Just raiding the vault would have made someone wealthy.
But I wasn’t after golden water dragons and hand-sized emeralds.
My magic was already waiting for me to call on it, gathering at my fingertips like a rising river in a monsoon. I let it unleash, and the threads of my power pooled out of my hands like an extension of myself, another sense I had. The coils of my golden light poured through the air, and I followed them as they guided me through the vault, my boots slapping against the gilded jasmine tiles as I sprinted through the entrance.
There were relics here I was itching to get my hands on, wondering what power they possessed, what we could learn from them before the Citadel shipped them off to the Empire. But I walked by them all—golden goblets that were bigger than human hands should hold, ornate plates decorated with more fae beasts that I longed to study closer.
Instead, I was led by my mother’s words in the journal I’d found not long after she’d left. The one that had spoke of the fae relic which could actually change everything. I hoped my her journal was right. Because if it was, the relic was the one thing that could get me across the River and through the wall into fae territory.
My magic guided me through the halls, until I found myself in a small antechamber. Here, the ceiling was not crusted with jewels and there was barely any gold in sight, with the exception of my bright threads hanging in the air of the small room.
The antechamber was carved out of stone, with rose-colored terracotta tiles lining the walls, looking dull in comparison to the rest of the vault. It was so unassuming anyone else might run right past it.
But my magic wouldn’t have allowed me to.
A small hollow was carved into the far wall, and a statue of a quqnoz sat inside, the phoenix’s gleaming eyes looking right at me. Elation rushed through me.
It was here. The phoenix statue was here, and the Astolan folksongs my mother had catalogued had all been correct.
But I stopped midstride before I reached the statue. This had all been too easy.
The fae hadn’t wanted this object to be taken.
My magic still threaded through the air, and my eyelids fluttered closed as I gave it direction.
“Show me the way,” I whispered, before opening my eyes.
They began to collect around the statue, except for one single strand. It crawled down the pedestal like a gleaming vine, alighting on five carved stone symbols at the front of the statue. Each one was a jasmine in a different state of bloom.
My magic curled around each one in order, showing me the correct tiles to press. From the full-blown flower to the curled bud. This represented the magic of reversal, of creation.
Because the power of Queen Azari, the ancient fae queen, was to create something new.
I pressed the tiles where my golden threads alighted and waited.
A click sounded, and the statue rose into the air from the pedestal, floating with the force of whatever remnants of magic there was. I grabbed the phoenix statue from the air and flipped it over. Underneath was a catch that I couldn’t get to unless I had something sharp. I flicked a dagger out of my satchel and dug it into the catch, all the breath trapped in my lungs as the statue cracked open.
And there it was.
The ancient fae Queen’s haath phool.
It was what the Citadel was looking for too—the only thing they wanted. The fae magic infused piece of Queen Azari’s jewelry that would allow you to cross the wall between the fae world and ours.
